Recovery
by kspadawan
Summary: Obi-Wan is abducted by a rogue Bounty Hunter whose repugnantly perverse attraction to the senior Padawan causes him nearly irrevocable harm. Ever his faithful rescuer, Qui-Gon gently leads his Obi-Wan through the healing process with tender care. Q/O


1.

When he'd finally managed to trudge up the stairs to their meager hotel room, his progress slowed from perhaps one drink too many at the bar, and found it empty, he'd automatically assumed the worst. Undercover mission or not, when Qui-Gon told his Padawan to stay in their hotel room to keep a low profile and wait for him, Qui-Gon knew that ten times out of ten he would find Obi-Wan exactly where he'd told his Padawan to be.

So after searching the room and the lobby of the shabby hotel and finding no sign of his Padawan, Qui-Gon knew something was wrong. Even worse than no physical sign of him was his ominous silence from the other end of their training bond, no matter how frequently or how loudly Qui-Gon called for him.

After nearly throttling the receptionist in his anger at the man for not keeping track of anyone who had left the building within the last hour, the Jedi Master took a seat by the entrance of the hotel, mentally instructing himself to calm down.

_Relax, _his mind insisted. _Obi-Wan will turn up in no time, most likely carrying an armload of snacks to sate that unyielding appetite of his. _

Minutes passed and Qui-Gon sighed miserably, pressing his face into his hands. Heart pounding in panicked despair, Qui-Gon was also doing his best to forget about the fact that their target, who had taken a frightening interest in his Padawan, was also missing…

_Relax, _his mind ordered of him yet again, but it was no use. In all of his long and trying years as a Jedi Master, the only person his head and his heart refused to peaceably agree upon was Obi-Wan.

Though if his mind had known that it would be weeks before he found his treasured Padawan again and that when he finally did, even he would hardly recognize him, his mind would be just as panicked and horror-stricken as his heart.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The mission had started off innocently enough. They'd been on many undercover jobs together before, after all, and compared to some of the situations they'd been forced to portray, their roles as traveling professor and student would be simple enough to play.

In actuality, though, as they pretended to be harmless scholars, they were really tracking down the rogue and ruthless Bounty Hunter, Keio, who along with losing his under squad to an accidental bombing, lost his slim grip on his sanity with one fortuitous blast. Reckless and bitter, the Bounty Hunter was a threat to the Republic if left to his own devices; therefore, the Supreme Chancellor, Finis Valorum, wanted him in custody, alive if the circumstances were willing or dead if they were not.

Jedi Master Tholme and his happy go lucky Padawan, who also happened to be one of Obi-Wan's best friends, Quinlan Vos, had tracked him to a seedy hotel in the stagnant pits of Coruscant, where Obi-Wan and his Master had found themselves just shy of an hour ago. The other half of their team was waiting outside, a mere precaution against the capture becoming too rough for public places. Having already secured a room for the night and deposited their baggage in their temporary living quarters, all that was left for them to do was to go down to the bar – the likeliest place for the villain to frequent – and wait.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Patience had never been one of Qui-Gon's stronger attributes, so Obi-Wan knew it was only a matter of time before his Master would become restless during their task of quiet waiting. Sure enough, at half past nine, when there was no sure sign as of yet of their pursuit, Qui-Gon began to fidget uncomfortably in his chair. Despite their situation, Obi-Wan ignored it until the older man half rose, declaring that he was getting another drink.

A swift hand shot out, wrapping around his Master's wrist and effectively stopping him from going any further. "But Professor," Obi-Wan protested with an exasperated smile. "You've had one already and your head must be clear for our – er – studying session later tonight," he fibbed, throwing in the last part in an effort to appear more convincing to the crowded bar room.

Qui-Gon smiled and there was definitely a playful gleam in his eyes as he took his seat again. "But I'm bored, Elias. And unless you plan on entertaining me, I'm getting another drink." He made to stand again, forcing a wary Obi-Wan to grab his hand.

Normally, he would let his Master drink his fill of the exotic alcoholic beverages offered in a Coruscanti Cantina since it wasn't often that the pair was allowed in such a place, but tonight Qui-Gon needed his wits about him. Which meant that Obi-Wan would have to play along with whatever game his usually stoic Master had in mind. "But," Obi-Wan frowned. "How would I entertain you, Professor?" he asked innocently, causing a few nearby heads to swivel their way.

Qui-Gon cleared his throat and glared menacingly at the audience they'd unintentionally gathered. "I was thinking," he trailed off, turning gentle eyes on his Padawan once again. "A dance."

Obi-Wan frowned blackly. "I don't dance."

His Master grinned playfully. "Sure you do. You just don't know it, yet."

And with that, Obi-Wan was hauled unwillingly to his feet with a surprised "oof!" and dragged around the grimy tables to the front of the room, where the cantina band was busily playing away.

"But Professor!" Obi-Wan made one final protest, already knowing in his heart that his resistance would be futile, as was any with this man. "I…don't know how."

Qui-Gon smiled that impish smile again, clanging many alarm bells in Obi-Wan's mind. "Sure you do. Professor Clee taught you, remember?"

Obi-Wan scowled darkly, picking up on the reference immediately…

_His best friend Garen's Master, Clee Rhara, was a rather accomplished pilot and had generously offered to instruct his band of friends on evasive maneuvering tactics. The excited bunch of Padawans had agreed at once, innocently thinking that Master Clee meant for all of them to pilot their own starfighters during the training. _

_What she'd neglected to mention, however, was that she would be the only one piloting an aircraft. The gleeful Master had then shot at them with all she had from the safety of her enclosed star-fighter's cockpit while they were forced to scramble along, avoiding the explosions as well as they could. _

_Later on, after Master Clee had emerged from her pilot's chair, a smiling Qui-Gon had greeted his exhausted Padawan with a cheerful exclamation of, "I've always had my suspicions of course, but you're a wonderful dancer, Obi-Wan!"_

_Flushing brick red, he'd glanced jealously around at his friends' Masters' normal reactions to their students' achievements, only to find Bant in a headlock, her Master Thal's fist rubbing her student's hair as the older woman grinned boyishly; Quinlan doing his best to catch his ever serious Master Tholme's eye for a sign of his thoughts on the matter; and a proud Master Clee jogging back to the cockpit of her starfighter, a protesting Garen running after her, doing his best to beg her to stop around his panting breaths._

_On second thought, he surmised with a smug grin, as Qui-Gon dropped an arm around his shoulders and told him how proud he was in gentle tones, he'd stick with what he had._

"That wasn't dancing and you know it!" Obi-Wan argued through clenched teeth.

Qui-Gon smiled, undeterred. "Nevertheless, I stand by what I said before."

And with that, he started to move, gently tugging a blushing Obi-Wan with him.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

They had only been moving for a few minutes, but Qui-Gon could tell that Obi-Wan was nearing his limit. He was just about to put an end to his Padawan's misery, however fun it was for him to watch, when a voice behind him spoke.

"He's lovely. Congratulations."

Qui-Gon was still feeling playful and nearly went along with it, but the mortified look on Obi-Wan's face sobered him up enough to tell the truth. "Oh, we're not –" As he whirled around, however, he changed his tact mid-sentence. "Thank you," he nodded at Keio, pulling his Padawan, who'd turned white as a ghost under the Bounty Hunter's lustful stare, closer against him.

There was silence for a few moments as the green-skinned humanoid continued to stare unabashedly at his young charge. Unnerved, Qui-Gon blurted the first words that came to mind in such a situation. "Is there something you want?" he asked, mentally cursing himself for a fool the moment the words were said. Obviously there was something – or rather, some_one _– the deranged Bounty Hunter wanted; otherwise, he wouldn't have been staring so hungrily at _his _Obi-Wan.

For such a sweet-tempered and innocent young man, trouble seemed to follow his Padawan wherever he went. And though he'd kept his distance at first, even the aloof and stoic Jedi Master Jinn hadn't been able to keep him at arm's length for long. The boy had claimed a piece of his heart long ago, but Qui-Gon hadn't known just how much he'd been taking over the years until the events of ten months past when their mission had gone horribly wrong and Obi-Wan had nearly lost his life.

Sometime during the month and a half that he'd camped out beside his deathly pale and unconscious Padawan's bacta tank in the Halls of Healing, he came to realize that the next beat of his own heart was completely dependent on the young man on the other side of the glass and that should anything happen to his Obi-Wan, that was it for him. He would simply cease to exist.

It hadn't taken him long after that to identify his feelings and put a name to them. Placing his hand against the glass – the closest he could come to touching him given the circumstances – Qui-Gon had simply stared at the precious face opposite him, a new emotion touching his blue eyes as he asked himself exactly when he had fallen in love with Obi-Wan Kenobi.

There came a startled gasp from below him and for one panicked moment, Qui-Gon thought some part – or all parts – of his thoughts had leaked through their bond and alarmed Obi-Wan by their intensity, but then he registered that Keio was nodding, though not at him.

Angered to the point of blind rage at the Bounty Hunter's audacity, Qui-Gon nearly missed Keio's next words. "Would you like to dance, lovely human?" he asked, extending his green arm toward Obi-Wan in such a way that bragged of his large muscles.

Before Obi-Wan could react, Qui-Gon carded his fingers into his Padawan's loose hair, pulling him against his chest protectively. "I'm afraid not," he said, unable to keep his voice level in his anger.

Keio blinked, undeterred. "I was talking to the boy."

His hand shook in his rage as he trailed it slowly down Obi-Wan's side toward his own concealed lightsaber. Despite their situation, Qui-Gon couldn't help but to notice Obi-Wan's shuddering breath at his actions and filed that memory away into a back corner of his mind for future examination.

Just as he was about to reach his destination, a smaller hand grabbed his and held it in place. With a small – painfully innocent, Qui-Gon's dread-filled heart couldn't help but to notice – smile, Obi-Wan pulled away from him and took a step toward their target. "You'll have to excuse Professor Gabriel, sir. He gets terribly jealous, you see."

Keio smirked triumphantly, his leering eyes raking his Padawan's lean body lustfully as soon as Obi-Wan turned to his Master again. Wide-eyed in panic, Qui-Gon opened his mouth to protest, only to find that he was quite incapable of coherent speech when Obi-Wan touched him like that.

"Professor," Obi-Wan was saying as he rested his palm against Qui-Gon's cheek, his thumb moving back and forth in a reassuring caress. "It's just one dance. And besides," he argued gently, walking his fingers from Qui-Gon's abdomen up to his chest suggestively. "We'll be spending the _rest_ of the night together, won't we?"

And before his Master could put voice to his protests, Obi-Wan was leaning toward him on tip-toes, his lips against his cheek pressing a soft trail to his ear. His breath catching in his throat, Qui-Gon's blue eyes fluttered closed helplessly, only to shoot open wildly in a startled panic at his Padawan's whispered words.

"This could be our only chance to take him." With one last peck to his bearded cheek, Obi-Wan pulled away from him completely and stood in front of Keio unflinchingly, even as the slimy bastard pulled him flush against his body.

He knew he needed to honor his Padawan's sacrifice by alerting the backup team the Temple had situated outside, but it was growing more and more difficult for him to force himself to move away – and those perverted green hands that were inching steadily lower on his Padawan's hips certainly weren't convincing him to move any faster.

The room was suddenly feeling very warm as his fingers inched instinctively toward his lightsaber. He was seconds away from grabbing the lethal weapon and simply running the creep through when impatient gray eyes met his, insisting that he get a move on, preferably without the use of his weapon as was made apparent by Obi-Wan's sudden glare at his twitching fingers.

His mind made up for him, Qui-Gon hurried to his seat where he made a quick comm-call to Clee and Thal, both of whom were waiting on standby outside. "You'd better get in here fast," he growled into his comm, the device groaning in protest under his tense grip as Keio did something with his fingers along Obi-Wan's hip, costing the young man a startled yelp.

Qui-Gon scowled darkly, leaping to his feet immediately. Help was scant seconds away and he couldn't take another moment of this torture. He reached them the moment that Thal and Clee entered the bar, spotting them at once and heading over. "It's getting late, Elias. I hope you aren't forgetting your promise," he reminded him huskily.

Despite his earlier bravery, Obi-Wan's smile was relieved as he dropped his arms from around the Bounty Hunter's neck. "Of course not," he alleged and Qui-Gon was startled to note his trembling voice. "Good night, sir," he dismissed the frowning Keio as Thal tapped him on the shoulder. Taking the arm that was offered him, Obi-Wan clung shakily to his Master as he was led away from the potential battle zone and up the stairs to their room.

Qui-Gon knew he would be needed downstairs in a few minutes' time, but for now, ensuring himself of his Padawan's safety held his full priority. Closing the door behind them, Qui-Gon pulled his shaking Padawan roughly into his arms in an unrelenting grip. Obi-Wan's hold around his shoulders was equally fierce as he buried his face in his Master's neck.

"He was bragging," Obi-Wan slurred shakily. "About how many people he's killed."

Qui-Gon sucked in a startled breath, tightening his hold on his Padawan and thanking the Force that the freak would not be able to touch his Obi-Wan again.

"He was bragging," Obi-Wan took a shuddering breath, "About not using weapons, but his bare hands, which were all over me," he whispered, horrified.

Qui-Gon rubbed his back soothingly, fighting down a triumphant grin when Obi-Wan's erratic breathing calmed beneath his touch. "He's gone now and I will never let him touch you again."

There came a feeling of immense relief from Obi-Wan's side of their training bond at his words and Qui-Gon allowed himself a satisfied sigh. If Obi-Wan was feeling better, the world was right again. Releasing his clenched grip on his Master, Obi-Wan pulled back slightly.

"We're probably wanted downstairs."

Qui-Gon shook his head and pulled his Padawan fully against him again. "I will go in a few minutes, but I want you to stay here and rest. Thal and Clee can handle things for a while yet and Garen and Bant are no pushovers, as you're constantly reminding me."

Obi-Wan smiled, tickling Qui-Gon's sensitive skin. "Perhaps if you'd just give your consent for our senior Padawan solo mission, you could see for yourself."

Qui-Gon merely snorted derisively.

Obi-Wan sighed, though his voice lacked vexation. "You're the last one, you know. Even Master Tholme has agreed that Quinlan is ready."

Qui-Gon smirked. "Most likely, he is just trying to get that bundle of trouble out from under his skin."

Obi-Wan stilled beneath his arms and Qui-Gon could tell that his mind was racing. "Is that it, Qui-Gon?" he asked quietly, seeming to piece together bits of information that hadn't been said but had been made quite obvious. Qui-Gon waited with bated breath as his Padawan pulled away enough to look up into his eyes. There was a moment of tense silence, but then Obi-Wan shook his head with an exasperated smile.

"The trials are not goodbye, Qui-Gon."

His Master looked away. "That's what you say now. I was of similar mind myself when I was your age, but I never…"

Obi-Wan shook his head dismissively. "You weren't very close to your Master. And who could be close to cold Master Dooku?"

Qui-Gon grimaced. "I was cold once, you know."

Again, Obi-Wan shook his head. "No, you weren't. You were heart-broken and for good reason." Qui-Gon opened his mouth to protest, only to be cut off with a finger to his lips. "Hear what I say to you now, Qui-Gon Jinn. A life without you in the very center of it wouldn't be a life at all, for me. If the trials really were a goodbye, I… I just couldn't, because… Because, I…" Gray eyes softening, Obi-Wan stepped forward, pressing his forehead against his Master's chest. "I'm afraid you're stuck with me, Master."

Qui-Gon grinned broadly, tightening his arms around the wonderful boy in front of him and before he could stop himself, he bent forward, touching his lips atop his padawan's head in a gentle kiss.

They stayed like that for a few precious minutes and Qui-Gon was quite sure he could have remained there with Obi-Wan in his arms happily for the rest of his life. But then, Obi-Wan flinched and brought his hand down to rub at his hip.

Startled, Qui-Gon pulled back, holding him at arm's length. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Obi-Wan shook his head dismissively. "It's nothing. He just pinched me, I think – Qui-Gon," he admonished gently, for his Master had broken off into indistinguishable dark mutterings. "You're right; it's over now and he can't touch me again, though what you're so upset about, I haven't the slightest idea. It was me, not you, he was molesting," he said with a disgusted shudder, running his arms down his sides as if to ward away the memory of the Bounty Hunter's touch.

Qui-Gon tightened his grip on his Padawan's shoulders and his eyes darkened meaningfully. "Exactly."

Obi-Wan blinked up at him, confused. "What do you mean?" he asked innocently.

Qui-Gon felt a spark of anger at himself over the proof in front of him of the harm he had done in their first few years as Master and Apprentice. The surge of anger coursing through his veins was doing nothing for his already feverish mind, intoxicated by their close proximity and he once again acted before his wits could catch up.

"I mean _no one_ is allowed to touch _my _Padawan like that," he said, the hands on Obi-Wan's shoulders undermining his words completely by slipping a few inches down his arms in a slow caress.

"Your Padawan," Obi-Wan began, sounding breathless. "Or _me_?"

Qui-Gon's blue eyes darkened slightly as he adjusted his grip on the young man before him; sliding his fingers beneath Obi-Wan's arms, he trailed them sensually down his torso and squeezed his hips firmly. Obi-Wan gasped, startled, as he was pulled flush against his Master in one swift motion.

Qui-Gon smirked, inspiration striking him and he lowered his face until he was level with his Padawan's so as to return the favor he'd been granted earlier that evening. Obi-Wan's breath was hitched as his Master pressed a kiss to his cheek and Qui-Gon was delighted to witness the gray eyes shuttering closed. Lips pressing a pathway to his ear, Qui-Gon took a moment to nuzzle the sensitive skin before he whispered, "I think the answer is quite obvious, don't you, Obi-Wan?"

With a swift intake of breath, Obi-Wan wrapped his arms tightly around Qui-Gon's neck, his fingers burying into his long hair. "Qui-Gon," he whispered breathlessly.

And at that moment, his Master's comm went off, Thal's voice filling the room.

"Qui-Gon, get down here."

The Jedi Master sighed regretfully, forcing himself to pull away from his Obi-Wan. The Padawan smiled softly and smoothed his Master's hair behind his ear, the hand lingering against his bearded cheek. "Go on," he encouraged him, though his other arm only tightened around his neck.

Qui-Gon hesitated uncertainly. "Will you be all right?" he asked, his voice thick with concern and regret.

Obi-Wan's eyes softened. "I will now," he answered truthfully with a bashful smile. Leaning forward, he pressed a chaste kiss to Qui-Gon's cheek before releasing him completely. "Go. I'll be here when you get back."

Qui-Gon grinned excitedly and kissed his Apprentice's cheek. "I'd kiss you properly, but then I wouldn't make it downstairs," he explained huskily, grinning at his Padawan's blush. "We'll pick up where we left off later, then," he alleged, grinning smugly. Too embarrassed to form words, Obi-Wan merely nodded, his face shining like a glowing red lantern.

Chuckling merrily, Qui-Gon left the room, thoughts of the coming nightly hours that they would spend together blissfully filling his mind.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_Keio had escaped and now Obi-Wan was missing. Given the night's more unpleasant events, it didn't take Qui-Gon long to move past denial and put two and two together. Thal and Clee had put up a valiant effort to drag him back to the Temple, but without their Padawans' support – Both Bant and Garen were too far gone in their shock to do much – he had promptly escaped, calling over his shoulder to the pair that he would return once Keio was dead and his Padawan was by his side once more._

_Unable to stop their friend, the women had left with their Padawans for the Temple to inform the Council of the tragic events of the night. Master Windu, predictably, had been furious to hear of Qui-Gon's desertion, but he quickly calmed under Master Yoda's reproachful glare. The Grandmaster, along with Ki-Adi-Mundi and Yaddle had then given orders to Thal, Clee and their Padawans to first locate Master Tholme and Quinlan Vos and then assist Qui-Gon by whatever means necessary._

_Meanwhile, out on his own, Qui-Gon followed any rumor of the Bounty Hunter's location, all the while seeking out his Padawan's continuously absent Force signature. The only explanation the Jedi Master could think of for that phenomenon was a Force inhibitor. Either that or his Padawan was no longer alive._

_But ideas such as those pushed him over the brink of despair, so he struggled not to entertain such thoughts. In fact, he attempted not to think at all, except when he was determining his next location to search, in order to keep his hold on his own sanity. He hardly ate and he never slept until his body gave out on him and he had absolutely nothing left to give. _

_Weeks passed in this fashion until at last – at long last – a rumor he had followed had some weight to it, after all._

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Despite his lack of energy, taking down the Bounty Hunter in his own private mansion was surprisingly easy. Begging for his life, Keio had told Qui-Gon where he would find Obi-Wan, but when asked about his Padawan's condition, the green-skinned bastard had remained ominously tight-lipped, no doubt fearing for his own condition if he disclosed too many details.

But Qui-Gon promptly took care of that for him. Stabbing him through the chest, but purposefully missing his heart, Qui-Gon ensured the Bounty Hunter a slow, agonizing death. He lingered beside the dying humanoid for a few sadistic seconds, watching the floor fill slowly with purple blood, but then he stepped over him and dashed for the basement, where the sick abductor had said he would find his precious Obi-Wan.

Rounding the stairs in a hurry, Qui-Gon stopped abruptly and gasped. The alien had been right to remain silent, otherwise he would have been given a much more painful death. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of his beautiful Obi-Wan covered in dirt and grime and matted blood. But it was the chains, some detached part of Qui-Gon's mind was able to surmise, that really made the sight so terrorizing.

After all, being a Jedi wasn't exactly the safest job available, or the cleanest. But while he could claim to have seen his precious Padawan in varying states of distress, never had he been forced to witness his proud Obi-Wan bound tightly and painfully to the floor in durasteel chains.

The boy was, as of yet, oblivious to his presence. Kneeling in a forced position, arms tied behind him, his head was bowed shamefully, his unbound ginger hair curtaining his beautiful face from view. Swallowing painfully around a sudden lump in his throat, Qui-Gon moved forward carefully so as not to alarm his imprisoned Padawan.

He was still many feet away when Obi-Wan seemed to hear him coming. He gave a startled gasp and raised his head in one swift, jerking motion, trembling from head to toe in terror. Qui-Gon's heart throbbed to see the cloth tied around his brilliant gray eyes, incapacitating him even further.

Kneeling beside him, Qui-Gon struggled to find his voice as Obi-Wan shook his head wordlessly in hopeless pleading. Placing his palm against his Padawan's filthy cheek, Qui-Gon winced as Obi-Wan drew his head back in terror.

"Shh, it's all right now, Obi-Wan. I'm here," he told him gently.

Obi-Wan paused in his muted head shaking, his lips parting in hesitant surprise.

Scooting forward, Qui-Gon tugged the blindfold from around Obi-Wan's eyes. He blinked rapidly as he waited for them to adjust to the sudden light. "See?" Qui-Gon asked with a gentle smile. "It's only me."

Glancing up, Obi-Wan's eyes streamed with tears at the sight of his Master and he struggled forward, only to be stopped by his durasteel restraints. Qui-Gon blinked back tears of his own at the sight.

"Let's get you out of here," he said, his voice thick with grief as he fit the key the Bounty Hunter had given him into the locks around both wrists. He had his arms full of his sobbing Padawan the moment the last manacle fell to the concrete floor, but he wasn't complaining. His arms were wrapped just as tightly, if not more so, around his Padawan's waist as were Obi-Wan's around his neck.

Wordlessly, he scooped the boy into his arms, shuffling his weight a bit until Obi-Wan's legs were wrapped securely around his middle. The Jedi Master effortlessly carried him out to the ship he had commandeered at the hotel weeks ago and, never releasing the boy, entered the familiar coordinates into the nav-computer that would take them back to the Temple with one hand. Once the ship had broken from the planet's atmosphere, he set the gauge to hyperspeed and changed the settings from manual to automatic. Their destination secured, Qui-Gon was able to focus primarily on his distressed Padawan.

Leaving the pilot's cabin, Qui-Gon carried his charge to the single bed in the back, set him down gently on the mattress, and knelt in front of him. Obi-Wan immediately moved toward him again, a panicked look in his gray eyes. Fighting against his own desire to hold the boy and never let go, Qui-Gon took his hands carefully, reassuringly, into his own.

"I want to hold you, Obi-Wan, but first I need to take care of you," he explained patiently, his heart throbbing at the hurt in his Padawan's eyes. He forced himself to press on, knowing that this was for the best. "Are you injured?" he asked.

Obi-Wan looked away, shaking his head.

"Good," Qui-Gon breathed, immensely relieved. "Now, do you know where the Force inhibitor is?" he asked, squeezing his hands gently. Obi-Wan hesitated, biting his bottom lip nervously. His Master rubbed at his distressed Padawan's palms distractedly.

"Obi-Wan?" he asked again, hating himself for having to put his boy through this when he was obviously desperate for comfort.

Obi-Wan sighed shakily, but this time he moved. Removing his hand from Qui-Gon's grip with obvious regret, he lifted the grimy, filthy shirt he'd been wearing undercover for nearly five weeks, exposing an angry red swelling just above his hip.

Qui-Gon frowned and leaned in closer to the sore, sucking in a sharp breath when he spotted dozens of painful looking puncture wounds. Putting two and two together with no small amount of dread, he placed his now empty hand atop his Padawan's thigh.

"He drugged you?" he asked, his voice hoarse with weariness. At Obi-Wan's miserable nod, the Jedi Master could not hold back a sharp oath as something clicked in his mind. "This is how he stole you away, isn't it?" he asked angrily. "When you were dancing, you thought he'd pinched you, but really he…" he trailed off, absently noting Obi-Wan's self-deprecating look and silently vowed to amend that misunderstanding later on, once he had taken care of his Padawan's more pressing needs.

_He'd known, then_, some dark part of Qui-Gon's mind assessed blackly. The Bounty Hunter had seen through their disguises; he'd known they were Jedi and he'd already been prepared to deal with them, armed as he was with a Force inhibitor drug.

_I should have known,_ Qui-Gon thought miserably. _I should have checked Obi-Wan's soreness. We were dealing with a rogue Bounty Hunter, for Force's sake! And that means that this…is all my fault…_

As if he was able to sense his Master's dark thoughts, even without the aid of the Force, Obi-Wan turned concerned gray eyes on him and set his hand overtop Qui-Gon's on his lap. With a harsh sigh, Qui-Gon raised his hand from beneath Obi-Wan's and stroked the sensitive wound with a gentle hand.

"On the positive side, it appears not to be permanent. It should wear off in a few hours' time."

Obi-Wan nodded and moved to pull his shirt back down, but as he did so, the cloth shifted slightly, revealing to Qui-Gon a horrid splash of purplish blue.

"Hold on a minute," he demanded, his deep voice rough with alarm. "What is this?" His arm shot out and before Obi-Wan could stop him, the shirt was tugged over his head, leaving his chest bare and exposing several inches of nearly blackened skin. "What is this?" Qui-Gon demanded again, his usually gentle voice rising with anger.

"You told me you weren't injured, Obi-Wan, but this looks serious! Your ribs may be cracked, or worse!" he shouted, his desperate need for his Padawan to be completely well again driving him to frustration. When Obi-Wan merely averted his eyes, Qui-Gon frowned, raising his palms to cradle his Padawan's face and force his attention back on himself.

"Why did you try to hide this from me?" he asked, keeping his voice level and calm with great effort. Answered yet again with silence, Qui-Gon sighed and tucked an errant strand of ginger hair tenderly behind the young man's ear.

"You can talk to me, you know," he said with a small smile. But Obi-Wan only shook his head miserably, his eyes filling with dread. Trying not to let his disappointment and hurt show on his face, Qui-Gon caressed his cheek comfortingly with his thumb.

"Why not?" He asked softly.

For reasons unknown to the Jedi Master, this question seemed to hurt his Padawan even more than his physical injuries. Drawing his arms around himself protectively, he bowed his head in apparent shame, strands of ginger hair falling into his face and obstructing his eyes from view. Qui-Gon blinked, startled.

"Obi-Wan?" he asked softly, tipping his Padawan's chin up with gentle fingers, only to draw back in surprise, fearing he had somehow hurt the boy. Obi-Wan scrubbed at his eyes furiously even as he drew in a heart-broken sob. Qui-Gon could only watch, confused, as Obi-Wan touched his fingers to his own throat and shook his head dejectedly.

"Obi-Wan, what…?" Qui-Gon asked, frowning. But then his mind placed the final piece of the puzzle and he gasped shakily in horror as his heart throbbed painfully.

"No," he shook his head in denial, feeling himself go numb. He had heard of this, of course, as a sworn protector of the Republic. It was known to happen to victims who had suffered through severely traumatic events – and if this was not considered traumatic, then he didn't know what was – and sometimes it came back and other times, it did not.

But something terrible like _that_ couldn't be happening to his Padawan. By the Force, not his Obi-Wan. Dreading the answer, but otherwise unable to escape the gnawing suspicion – the obvious truth – Qui-Gon forced himself to ask.

"You –" he broke off, swallowing around a sudden lump in his throat. "You can't speak?"

The single tear that fell from Obi-Wan's distraught eyes was answer enough.

Feeling his heart breaking, Qui-Gon wondered for a moment why the world had gone so blurry. But then Obi-Wan was gently wiping his tears away with careful fingers and he knew he was crying. Of course he was. To him, Obi-Wan's voice was the most beautiful sound in the world. The knowledge that he may never hear it again proved to be too much for him and with a broken sob, he fell forward into his Padawan's lap.

The soothing feeling of Obi-Wan's fingers combing gently through his hair jostled the thought into his mind that he was the one that was supposed to be doing the comforting. But for now, it was all he could do to simply lie there, supported by Obi-Wan's lap, and cry out his frustration, basking in the gentle, comforting touch of the person he loved the most.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

**A/N: This pretty much came out of nowhere, since I wrote it on a whim while sitting at the beach, but I like it, so I've decided it's a keeper. The emphasis is meant to be not on the actual abduction, but Qui-Gon's and Obi-Wan's deepening relationship as his Master helps him through his healing process. Hence, 'Recovery.' **

**Let me know what you think. If anyone likes it, it'll probably be something like a three-shot. **

**Thanks for reading and reviewing!**


End file.
